Chapter Twenty-One
ELLY
"I'VE GOT a lot of work to do."
Air is pushed from my lungs as the fist of disappointment squeezes my chest and the feeling of not being able to breathe is back as I watch him turn and walk out of the room. One minute, he's soft and warm, and I don't want to be away from the delicious bubble of his embrace.
The next minute, the mask slams down and I feel the damn wall between us again.
I watched it happen. The soft lines of his face pulled tight, and the mask was there just like the other night.
Part of me wanted to reach out and beg him to come back and show me the side that only those closest to him get to see.
Why would he do that for me? I’m just the person here to take his home.
I selfishly took the comfort he offered as he held me and helped to keep me grounded, like he knew exactly what I needed. That level of empathy and caring is something I've never felt from another person.
Except for Thalea, but she's been my best friend since we had lockers next to each other in ninth grade. She's like my sister, she doesn’t wake up every part of me, he makes me feel emotions I’ve never felt before.
Being pressed to his big, hard chest does things to me that no other man has done with just a touch.
And he had an EpiPen in his first aid kit on standby, just in case his daughter needs it. And he knew how to use it from memory. A mom or a grandmother didn't take that precaution, it was made by a father who always ensures his daughter’s safety. A father who truly loves his daughter.
A man who knows how to love and protect.
A man who always puts family first.
I remember seeing other girls with their fathers during school functions and dances and being so jealous of the obvious bond between them.
There were so many things that bothered me growing up, like seeing the other girls get hugs from their fathers when they drop them off at school, or the stories they would tell about vacations and dinners.
No girl should have to feel so starved for love from her father.
One thing that bothered me most is seeing other fathers hold their daughters' hands.
I once tried to hold my father's hand when I was about nine, the horrible memory has lived rent free in my head since that day.
We were walking into a restaurant to have dinner with his work associates.
The dinner felt special; I got a new dress for the occasion and my mother abstained from drinking that afternoon and curled my hair into large ringlets down my back.
She always tried to make me look like a doll, but I didn't care about frilly dresses and pretty hair when I was little. Even the young me sensed my father wanted a boy, so I tried to be that for him.
As we were walking into the restaurant, I was next to my dad and slipped my hand into his, thinking he would naturally tighten his fingers around mine.
I was wrong. He flexed his fingers and pulled his hand away like I burned him and slid it into his pants pocket.
The rejection stung so bad it brought tears to my eyes and I walked the rest of the way to our table with my head down.
Not Gray. He quickly grabbed my hand when I reached for him.
There was no hesitation. While I was wondering if I was going to die, he was holding my hand, and it felt genuine, I could see the compassion in his eyes.
To anyone else, it might have been a small gesture, buy to me it was huge.
I wouldn't have to die without knowing what it felt like to have my hand held.
Try not to make it a habit?
The comment stung. He can't be serious. It felt like a slap to the face, like he was accusing me of creating issues to pull him away from work. The familiar ache of rejection I’ve shoved deep down all these years is making my eyes sting. Again.
Why wouldn’t he reject you? You’re the threat to his family.
Try not to make it a habit.
The echo of the statement in my head has my stomach in knots.
Knowing how little he thinks of me stirs up all the feelings of disappointment I've felt because of my father for years.
Even though I've resigned myself to the fact I'll never have his affection, I've fought like hell to at least get approval.
This has to stop. I think back to the conversation I was just having with Sloane and Hallie before I ate the bread, and anger sweeps over me.
Acceptance of the realization slams into me like a brick wall.
I'll never have my father's approval, it doesn’t matter what I do.
I'll always be a tool for him to use, and I'm letting him.
For what? A fucking nod in my direction once in a while?
Even going as far as playing a stupid game with Harris to win. Win what?
I don't need him.
The thought floats on a breath of fresh air.
A weight lifts off my chest I've been carrying for as long as I can remember.
Part of it may be the shot making it easier to breathe, but I know for sure I feel like a door has opened.
My therapist has been telling me for years that I need to see my worth, and I never truly understood how to do that until just this minute.
My lips stretch into a smile as I think, ‘fuck ‘em’.
I don't need my father's approval.
Just thinking it feels good.
Even after graduating top of my class in business school, my Mount Everest always belonged to getting my father’s approval. Love. Affection. Whatever. An honor I'm sure I'll never get.
I don't need him.
The thought chips away a dark piece of my life every time I think it.
"Are you okay?" Hallie's voice pulls me from my thoughts. She's crouched in front of me, concern and guilt in her brown eyes, which are puffy from crying, her face is still pale, and I feel horrible for causing it.
Pushing Gray's coat open, the smell of smoke and sandalwood stirring around me, I put my legs down and scoot to the edge of the couch and grab her shoulders to pull her in for a hug.
"Oof." Her breath puffs out over my shoulder as she loses her balance and rolls forward into me to land on her knees, her arms going around me.
"Yes, I'm okay." Grabbing her shoulders, I lean back and look her in the eyes. "You're going to think I'm a crazy person, but you just helped me more than you'll ever know."
Her eyebrows climb half-way up her forehead as she looks at me like I may have lost oxygen to my brain. "Oo-kaay," she slowly drawls.
Giving her another quick hug, I stand up but quickly sit back down from the dizziness caused by the EpiPen.
"Whoa, you probably need to sit down for another minute." Mr. Harlow says and puts a hand on my shoulder, hovering next to me. So, that’s where Gray gets his protective nature.
It takes a few more seconds for the dizziness to pass, and I give my head a little shake. "I'm fine. Where did he go?" My gaze lands on Mr. Harlow, who is also looking at me cautiously, like I've suffered a brain injury instead of an allergic reaction.
His head tilts to the side a little before he jerks it toward the kitchen and says, "Back door, probably back to the stables. But you can't go out there without a coat and something on your feet to keep you from sliding."
Nodding my head, I walk past him, and Marley and Lainey Rai, who are standing in the doorway. Marley's smile is warm, like she knows a secret, and gives me a wink. I feel all eyes on me as I walk down the hall into the kitchen.
In the mudroom, there are several coats hanging up and I grab one that looks like it might be Marley's to put on and slip my feet into a dirty pair of mud boots standing on a mat that are probably three sizes too big for me.
Strapped to them are what look like steel cleats, and they feel funny as I take a step towards the door, but once I step outside, I understand their importance.
There is a coat of ice on everything. Every rock, leaf, and dirt rut are lined with ice like someone shook out an invisible blanket that formed to every surface in sight.
My breath is in clouds in front of me as I take one slow step at a time down the small hill, my arms held out to my sides to help keep my balance on the incline.
The cold air feels good on my face, and I take a deep breath, the air smells like ice cubes in a freezer.
I can see the divots in the ice from the guys walking back and forth and I follow them to the stable I was in the first day I was here.
Was that just four days ago? I feel like it could be a lifetime.
Probably because I have dropped a lifetime of anxiety off my back since I've been here.
The door that’s inset into a large sliding door is cracked open and I push it open all the way to step inside, the smell of hay, horses and poop fill my nose.
It's not a wholly unpleasant smell, it makes me smile because it seems to cling faintly on Gray like the weakest note of a cologne, blending with his aftershave.
Distant mumbling pulls my attention to one of the stalls to my right and toward the back. The large corridor is warm compared to the air outside and my eyes travel to the rafters, there are heaters hanging over each stall. They look like long fluorescent lights, and some are glowing red.
When I was in here a few days ago, I didn't pay much attention to the structure itself because I was so nervous, but now I turn in a circle with my head back to take in all the details. It's a very nice stable, big and clean. I can't imagine how much work goes into keeping this up.
Heads poke out of stalls as I walk by, big, curious, black eyes watching me.
Each horse is covered in a blanket that looks like a quilt, and they look very comfortable.
A large stall toward the middle of the stable has a hose, hooks, brushes and lots of tools hanging from the walls.
As I creep closer to look at the room, a fuzzy nose pokes my neck and hot air huffs onto my ear.
I nearly jump out of my boots with a squeak.
Turning as I take a step back, I'm face to face with a shiny brown face poking out of the stall next to the hose room, a long white streak slashes up the center of the nose like someone slid a paintbrush up it, one side blends with the white surrounding its eye.
I don't know if it's a boy or a girl, but the energy from it is the sweetest, most unconditional energy I have ever felt.
I tentatively lift my hand to its nose, and it closes the small distance to push the softness into my palm.
Tears sting my eyes as I slide my hand up and scratch the coarse hair above its eyes. I've never had a pet, I always wanted a dog when I was little, but dad said they poop in the house, and he forbid it.
Taking a step closer, I close my eyes and let the horse nuzzle my shoulder and cheek while I scratch his jaw.
Emotions I always keep pushed down are trying to bubble up through my chest. I'm in awe at how another being I just met less than a minute ago makes me feel so comforted, like it knows I need connection and it's more than happy to give it.
Is this how Marley feels every day? Because it feels amazing.
Just being close to this creature that’s nuzzling me like we’re old friends is like a warm hug.
"That's Lainey Rai's horse, Felix, he loves people." Gray's deep voice booms in the corridor and pulls me back to the moment, and my eyes fly open as I jump and turn in his direction.